Promising Young Women
Chapter One: California Dreamin'
On a Saturday, 7:09 am
A warm breeze lifted the leaves in a delicate dance. Bright sunshine peered out in between a smattering of clouds in a way that made the heat kiss the skin instead of bruising it. Birds chirped happily somewhere above. It was peaceful here. Quiet.
Too peaceful. Too quiet.
But Javi had a long list of things to do this morning - too many to worry about the eerily peaceful quiet that had settled on the rows of apartment complexes hovering in front of him. The leaky faucet in 27B wouldn't fix itself. Same thing with the stove on the fritz in 33A. And then there was 11C - the tenants had just moved out two days ago, and the boss was on his ass to patch some holes and refresh the paint before the new tenants moved in next week.
Too many things to do and too many distractions to appreciate the warm breeze and that bright sunshine. Besides, in just a few hours, the heat that kissed his tanned skin would turn into a sweltering, punishing bruise. All the more reason to hustle through that leaky faucet in 27B so he could move on to the next thing on his list.
Just as he was about to round the corner, he ran nearly headfirst into the guy he recognized from the next building over - always heading out for his morning run, always lost in another world with his earbuds in.
"Aw, shit, bro," Javi pushed out. "Sorry 'bout that."
"No worries," the jogger just lifted his hand in a wave, side-stepping around him to carry on with his morning routine.
Javi turned his head for just a moment and lifted his eyes to the clear California sky above him. The guy's Adidas running shoes probably cost more than his rent on the other side of town in South Charming, where the air was a little grimier and the sun a little more punishing. What in hell was this town coming to anyway? Three years ago, all these bolillos were nowhere to be found, still lingering in their fancy high-rises in Palo Alto or Monterey or some shit like that with their big-time office jobs.
But ever since that goddamn development deal with Oswald Construction broke ground, Charming had become fractured. Quickly divided, territory lines drawn too easily, and the message was clear. No one needed to say it out loud - what North and South Charming meant. Which one was more affluent and worthy of development; which one was shittier and best put out to pasture.
This new development deal brought just that to the town - newness. And an avalanche of opportunity to open new businesses, to be part of something. To get it while it was hot. And suddenly, their little town seemed like a pretty charming place to be, from a certain point of view - a blank slate, a fresh start, a chance to leave the big city behind and settle down in a cozy suburban life blanketed by self-indulgence and over-confidence.
Those little tiny cracks just splintered through the town once this apartment complex started going up, brick by brick - brand new, fresh paint, unstained carpets, not a whiff of cigarette smoke burning through the walls - that was the life. That was something to aspire to. Something to dream about when the town's lifers, long-beaten down by choice and fate, stayed on their side and yearned for the time when they could jump the fence, so to speak, and join the other half in North Charming.
They were all hustling for the good life in South Charming anyway. There was no shortage of million-dollar ideas or best laid plans as long as they worked and as long as they didn't get caught. Some of them had legit businesses and legit jobs, just like Javi. Some of them roamed the streets, looking to get a score or looking to sell one. Some of them rode around on motorcycles and wore leather on their backs, too. But they were all the same - all working toward one goal and one goal only.
Javi glanced up at that telltale sign just over his head and sighed heavily - Hillside Canyon Luxury Apartments.
The only word in that name that really mattered was the third. And wasn't that what everyone wanted? A little class? A little luxury? A chance to get movin' out and movin' on up?
But here he was, having jumped the fence but only as the hired help. Always on the outside looking in. Good enough to fix their leaky faucets and paint their walls, but that was it. That bolillo in the limited-edition Adidas running shoes didn't even bother to say good morning.
With a shake of his head, Javi got back to work. The last thing he needed today was for his boss to read him the riot act for slacking. So he continued his trek down the side of the building with its freshly-cut grass and finely-manicured landscaping on one side and a sparkling pond on the other, and rounded the corner. He turned his key into the maintenance entrance - because why would anyone want the help using the same door as their tenants anyway - and then moved purposefully through the second floor hallway to get to 27B and that fucking leaky faucet.
But just halfway in, Javi's steps stalled. Eyes wide and glued to the end of the hallway in front of him. Forehead creased into a tight line. Heart leapt up into his throat. Something wasn't right here. He turned his head as he backpedalled a few steps until he stopped right in front of 23A.
A set of keys with a fluffy pink keychain lay haphazardly on the carpet, right next to the door - the door that was just barely ajar, like someone had left in a hurry and the door bounced back just a crack and just out of reach of the latch. So close, yet so far.
Javi stared at the door for a beat too long. And then, on pure reflex, with his heart pulsing through fear-tinged adrenaline, he knocked a fist against the door, leaning in to listen for any sign of movement behind it.
Nothing.
He frowned, and knocked again. And again.
"Hello?" Javi called out as he knocked one more time. "Anybody in here?"
Finally, he propped an elbow against the door and gingerly pushed it open. Javi wasn't born yesterday - he knew better than to put his prints anywhere on that door.
The apartment was peaceful. Too peaceful. Too quiet. Even the room smelled off - like sewage and an overflowing toilet all at the same time. And as he craned his neck around the side couch in the living room, he caught sight of a red stiletto on the carpet. Before he could stop himself, he tiptoed even deeper inside until the full scene in front of him came into clearer view.
She was young. And pretty in all the ways that good girls were exquisitely soft and warm and always out of reach.
Her dark blonde hair fanned out across the carpet. Skin pulled taut across her high cheekbones, brittle and smooth like porcelain. Eyes frozen, forever locked on the ceiling above her. Mouth lobbed open. One arm draped delicately over her head, and the other resting gently on her stomach. But her neck… it rested heavily on the carpet underneath her, twisted and turned unnaturally with a grotesque sprinkling of purple marks running down both sides.
Javi stood rooted to the carpet as he exhaled, "Jesucristo…"
His right hand moved to his forehead, before dropping to his chest and then both shoulders to make the sign of the cross - it was all he had to offer her now. And he hoped, even as he stood there stupefied at the horror of what must've happened here… he hoped this girl had found the peace in her death that she hadn't found in her last moments.
Then he backpedaled out of that apartment as fast as his feet could carry him, already bringing his phone to his ear to call the police.
3:11 pm
Jackson Teller tapped some ash from his cigarette impatiently into the tray in front of him. He glanced at the time on his prepay one more time, just because he had nothing better to do, and just because he was fucking sick of this shit, and then tossed it back onto the table with a rough sigh.
"You think he's doin' this on purpose?"
Jax's head turned at the sound of his VP's gruff voice and sighed again. "I dunno, Ope. All I know is that I didn't drive all the way out to Oakland just to sit outside some restaurant, sittin' on my hands like an asshole. This is the second time he's done this to us."
"Maybe he'll actually show this time."
Now, Jax shook his head, his eyes darting out to the relatively busy street to his right as he took a long toke from the cigarette in between his lips.
"I don't know who the fuck he thinks he is, pullin' this shit," Jax huffed, and then he wagged a ringed finger at his VP, "I bet he thinks he's pullin' rank, showin' us who's boss around these parts - standin' us up last time and purposely rollin' in here late. And then you know what he's gonna do? He's gonna pull up on the side of the road, right over there," he gestured out to the curb just beyond where they sat, "like some kinda west coast mafia kingpin, and act like everything is finally right with the world now that he's here."
"Maybe," Opie just shrugged, reaching forward to tap some ash from his own cigarette into the tray in front of them. "I mean, we've been sitting here - what? At least twenty minutes now?"
"Hey, you were the one who wanted to show up early."
"I know, I know," his VP held his hands up with a light laugh. "It was more about the gesture than anything, ya know? But still. Let's give it another ten minutes and then get the hell outta here."
Jax exhaled roughly through his nostrils, mashed his cigarette in the tray, and then dug into the front pocket his leather kutte with enough agitation to carry him through the rest of his day. This was the last thing the club needed right now… they were so close. So fucking close. But this one last obstacle in their path to finally and truly going legit obviously planned on doing everything and anything in his power to make their lives as difficult as possible.
Asshole.
And then, as if on cue, a shiny black Mercedes-Benz pulled right up to the curb, just like Jax predicted. And just like Jax predicted, the man of the hour slid out of that Benz like the west coast mafia kingpin he was.
"There," Jax smirked, and clicked his tongue as he pointed to that mafia kingpin. "Did I tell ya, or did I tell ya?"
Ope just shook his head in mock-defeat. No point in arguing because when he was right, he was right.
Damon Pope adjusted the lapels on his navy suit jacket before fastening one of the buttons, like that would just put the icing on the cake of this whole thing - purposely keeping them waiting, pointedly letting them know where things stood and who called the shots in this territory.
Well, the problem with that was Damon Pope, his associate August Marks, and their workhorses - the One-Niners - didn't own this territory anymore than Samcro did. They all had to co-exist and figure out how to play nice here. Jax, at least, was under the impression that Pope wanted to avoid a turf war, let alone any blow back that kind of engagement would pull in with it. So why Pope was hemming and hawing and making a big production out of this whole thing was beyond him.
"Well," Pope flashed them a set of pearly white teeth as he sauntered over to their outdoor table with Marks trailing right behind him. "If it isn't South Charming royalty, right here in front of me."
At this point, Jax had no interest in playing this game. And it wasn't like all four of them didn't know that South Charming royalty line wasn't exactly a compliment. So he also had no interest in standing up to greet this guy either. Instead, he waited, once again, for Pope and Marks to grace them with their presence and only leaned forward to shake their hands once they were sitting at the table.
Pope immediately waved the waitress away - that wasn't what they were here for, and that waitress was better off as far away from this conversation as possible.
"My apologies for our tardiness," Pope started a little too easily, and folded his carefully manicured hands on the table. "We were delayed by some other business elsewhere, but we didn't want to have to reschedule one more time - so, let's cut to the chase, shall we?"
Jax nodded cockily. "A'ight."
"My understanding is that you've smoothed over a deal between the Triads and the IRA. Any truth to that rumor, or do I need to re-evaluate the people I've got on the ground?"
With a laugh, Jax leaned back in his chair, squeaking it as he threw an elbow over the side. "The rumors are true. We got that deal on the books last week."
"Hmm," Pope mused, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And your plan, as I understand it, is still to hand over every facet of your current business to the Mayans MC - for good?"
"That's right," Jax threw him a tight nod. "Our relationship with the Mayans goes way back to when our dads," he nodded to his VP as he spoke, "were runnin' the club, and that's all this is, bro. It's history. A long-standing history that we gotta honor as we move forward. Nobody's tryin' to step on anyone's toes here or ruffle anyone's feathers."
Pope held up his hand with a friendly smile. "I understand. I really do. And I have to say, I admire the steps you've already taken to move toward a fully-operational legitimate path. I'm sure brokering that development deal to split your town in two went a long way in getting your plans off the ground. Couldn't have been easy - relinquishing the kind of pull your club's enjoyed in that area in order to do what needed to be done."
"To be clear," Jax flashed him a smile that was more like a snarl than anything as Opie shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "We didn't relinquish anything. We came to an agreement with Elliott Oswald that was mutually beneficial to all parties involved - he got us to finally sign off on that development deal he'd been trying to get off the ground for years, and we got a nice little cut for our willingness to allow that deal to go through."
Three years ago, that nice little cut had been the cash they'd desperately needed to finally start a real, legitimate business, and not just an auto-repair shop that was really a thinly-veiled front for gun running and racketeering. It was really just a means to an end. But signing off on that deal did mean they'd had to accept there were going to be factors out of their control once the ground broke on those fancy apartment complexes on the north side of town. They couldn't control the influx of people and they definitely hadn't been able to control the influx of businesses that kept sprouting up around town like weeds. One day, things had been just as they always were, and then all of a sudden… the entire makeup of the town had seemed to shift overnight into something more and less all at the same time.
In the end, the club had taken their cut, invested it, and accepted that what happened in North Charming was North Charming's problem.
They had enough to worry about on their end of town anyway.
But all that being said, every time those new designations were thrown out - North Charming and South Charming - Jax had to grit his teeth. Push down the animosity and the prickles of resentment. For all the good the club had done this town, all the protection, all the years of keeping people like Ernest Darby on a tight leash and under wraps, and that was the thanks they got? A slap in the face? Automatically relegated as the bad seeds on the baddest side of town by some fucking committee they definitely hadn't been invited to be part of?
All they could do was focus on their own bigger picture and let Charming's chips fall where they may. Besides, once they were legit, they wouldn't be those outlaw renegades who were always one wrong move and one bullet away from ending up with a life sentence in Stockton. They were better than that. They would be better than that.
"Of course," Pope nodded knowingly. "And I would never begrudge any businessmen, such as yourselves," he gestured to Jax and Ope sitting across from him, "the right to make those kinds of calls as you see fit. But tell me this, Teller, are you really okay with just being the porn king? You sure you're not looking for something else here?"
Jax huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he shot Ope a glance, who just chuckled. "The porn king, huh? I don't know… kinda has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
"It does, doesn't it?" Pope joined right in with that easy laughter in this uneasy camaraderie they'd found so far. "Maybe you do like the sound of that."
"Yeah, I think I do."
"Well, in that case, I think I have a better understanding of what you're really after here, and now, before we hammer out any details, I'd like to make sure my intentions are clear - I have no problems with Samcro wanting to leave the outlaw world behind and move toward greener pastures with your porn enterprise. You're well within your rights to make those changes in your organization, and I would never attempt to dictate how you make those changes. And all I want, and all I expect, is the same professional courtesy from you."
"Alright," Jax's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his seat. Opie had stiffened next to him, ready to pounce at a moment's notice given the sudden shift in the air. "And what does that mean?"
"It means," Pope grinned with just enough bite to get his point across, "that you can do whatever you want. Get out of guns. Stay in guns. Run your little start-up," he cocked his head to the side with mock curiosity, "What's the name of your studio again?"
Jax sucked in a wary breath but kept his eyes trained right on the jackass sitting across from him. "Red Woody Productions."
"Ah!" Pope laughed brightly, and even slapped a hand on the table just to demonstrate how funny this all was. "That's right! That's right!" and now he had the audacity to wave a finger at him, "Excellent choice, by the way. Naming your business is one of the hardest parts of getting up and running, and you knocked that one out of the park."
All Jax could do was flash him a tight smile. He was definitely not amused.
"I'm sorry," Pope laughed again, this time holding up the hand he'd just slapped to the table apologetically. "I digress - as I mentioned before, I'd never attempt to dictate your business practices. We've always managed to co-exist here with relatively fair and friendly terms - you stay on your side and out of our business and we stay on our side and out of yours. And while I admire the ambition, what I don't like are your methods."
Well, now all this made perfect sense. They'd run right up to a similar issue with the Triads, who hadn't appreciated being completely cut-off from their suppliers and also hadn't been particularly keen on working with the Mayans as their new contacts on the ground. One call to Galen O'Shay in Ireland had more or less solved that problem, and the Triads had been satisfied with trading Samcro for the IRA.
So, in light of all that, there had to be a compromise here. They just had to find it first.
"Hey, I get how this looks," Jax lifted both hands in a gesture of goodwill. "If I were you, I'd see the exact same thing - outlaw bikers thinkin' they're throwin' their weight around and tryin' to call all the shots, including who's doing business with who, and redrawin' all the lines of business associations in this area. I get it. I really do. But that's not what's happening here. We just wanna make sure everyone's good with what everyone's got before we cut loose. We wanna get out, not get pulled in even deeper."
"I understand that."
"Okay," Jax leaned forward again before casting Ope a quick glance from the corner of his eyes. "So what can we do to smooth this over? There's gotta be a way both sides can meet in the middle and move on, right?"
Pope nodded tightly, his eyes sparking with calculated precision. "Sure. Give us a piece of your production studio and I'll agree to shift my contacts to the Mayans MC."
Jax huffed with his high eyebrows lifted high into his forehead with amusement. "A'ight. I'll bite. How big a piece are you lookin' for?"
No hesitation. Not even one blink. "Half."
A sharp laugh shot out through Jax's throat as his shoulders shook in disbelief. The nerve of this fucking guy. Thinking he could just roll up in here and do whatever the hell he wanted.
"Come on," Jax tossed back with a wary grin. "You know we can't do that. There's gotta be somethin' else - somethin' you want that we can actually give you."
And Pope, for all his pomp and circumstance, took it one step further with his arms spread out wide, almost like the ringleader starting up the main attraction in a circus. "Those are my terms, Teller."
"See that sounds a little bit like you're tryin' to take a page outta our book in how we negotiated that development deal with Elliott Oswald."
Pope just lifted a shoulder, like none of this was really all that important to him anyway. "I see no reason to reinvent the wheel."
"Well, I hate to disappoint you," Jax tossed back with a cocky smirk. "But we're still a privately-owned, single-entity enterprise. We're not lookin' to open things up to any new shareholders. And even if we were, we'd never, ever give you half our business."
"Well," Pope barked out a gruff laugh. "Look at you. All those fancy words - you almost sound like a real businessman."
Jax clicked his tongue with his eyebrows lifted high. "Almost."
"And you'll get there, I'm sure. So, I guess you just have to ask yourself then - how much is getting out of guns really worth to you?"
"Not half our business," Jax growled, clenching his hands into tight fists underneath the table.
Even if that was something they'd actually agree to do, they literally couldn't afford to give up half their profits just like that. Red Woody was thriving, but that income - as a whole - was also how they were going to survive outside of the outlaw world. Cutting that in half would cripple them… maybe not right away, but over time, all of this would've been for nothing.
And Pope had to know that.
"Now," he went on with a genial smile. "I have no problems with you wanting to cede your business and move to more legitimate enterprises. That just leaves more room for the rest of us to move in and pick up where you left off. ButI do have a problem with you ceding that business to another organization in my territory without my input and without my permission."
"Oh?" Jax shot back. "So you're telling me I gotta ask your permission?"
"Yes," Pope didn't miss a beat, and flashed those pearly whites with a vicious smile. "You do. You don't get to dictate who I do business with and who I don't. That devil-may-care attitude you've walked around with your whole life isn't going to do you any favors with me. You cannot and you will not hand your business over to the Mayans MC without me signing off on it first."
"A'ight," Jax just shrugged. "Say we decide to cut you out all together. We're really just here as a professional courtesy anyway. I'm just tryin' to keep the peace here and just tryin' to make sure everyone's satisfied with all the arrangements before we walk away for good."
"If you do that," Pope snarled as he leaned in to jab a finger at him. "There will be consequences."
"You threatening me?" Jax cocked an eyebrow.
Pope bared his teeth through yet another slimy grin. "Only one way to find out."
4:07 pm
"Well, that sure as hell could've gone better.
Jax huffed out a laugh as he unsnapped his helmet and threw his leg over the side of his bike. "Yeah. With no help from you, VP. What, were you sittin' there with your thumb up your ass the whole time or somethin'?"
"Hey," Opie shot back, even as he flashed him a wide, guilty grin. "You had it covered, prez. Besides, he wasn't gonna budge today anyway. Nothin' I had to say or didn't say would've changed that."
"Yeah," he pushed out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his slicked-back blonde hair to put it back in place. "I think you're right. I don't know what the hell we're gonna do here, Ope. If his compromise is half of the studio or else we're all goin' to war… I don't know where we go from here."
And of course, that smug son of a bitch would be the last obstacle standing in their way of getting out of guns for good. They had the legitimate income to support themselves, finally, but tying up all these loose ends to make sure they weren't unleashing chaos in their wake seemed more and more like a fool's errand with every day that passed.
If they couldn't find some sort of solution with Damon Pope and his associates, he had no doubt Pope would follow through on his threat. He didn't get to where he was and amass the kind of power he had for no reason.
Nobody wanted a war. If the club's options here were staying in guns a little bit longer to smooth things over with Pope or starting a turf war by going rogue, then the answer was simple and obvious.
So they'd wait and keep working toward a solution they could all agree to - and half of Red Woody just wasn't it.
Ope's mouth opened to respond, but he paused there, digging through his kutte to unearth his prepay and flipped it open. His dark eyes scanned the text waiting for him, and then, his shoulders slumped with frustration as he pounded out a reply and snapped his prepay shut again so hard it was a wonder the screen didn't crack.
"Everything alright, brother?" Jax tossed out carefully, tipping his chin to Ope as he lit up another cigarette. Damn, he was already almost through this pack - at this rate, he was going to need to go through at least another full pack just to even attempt to settle his nerves today.
"I don't fuckin' know," Opie huffed out and shook his head. "Lyla's gonna be at the studio late again tonight. I don't know why she's gotta be there on a Saturday anyway."
Biting back his wince was a little easier said than done. This had been going on for a little while now - Lyla working late, Ope home alone with Ellie and Kenny, Lyla and Ope fighting when she finally did come home… it was a vicious cycle that might as well have been an open secret inside the clubhouse. The Winston household was not a happy place to be right now, but Jax had no idea what to do, no idea how he could help.
Everyone knew that the one thing Ope and Lyla had going for them was love - that, and about ten years of history. The notion that sometimes love just wasn't enough felt kinda cliché in relation to his best friend and vice president, but in this case, Jax worried that might actually be true.
Still, he had to ask: "Anything I can do, Ope?"
All he got was a shrug in response.
"You need me to send a prospect over to walk her out?"
Now, Opie just batted a hand in the air. "Nah, don't worry about it. Nero and Bobby are there too. They're goin' over spreadsheets and quarterly reports and all that shit."
"A'ight. Well, I was gonna stop over there later anyway just to check in. I know they were finishing up some filming today too, so I guess there's always shit to do, huh? But I'll see if I can talk her into cuttin' out early."
His VP just huffed out a rough laugh, shaking his head with his hands on hips. "Don't waste your time, prez."
And since there really wasn't much he could say to that, Jax tapped two fingers to his forehead as he backpedaled through the parking lot towards T-M's main office for yet another check-in. He waited long enough to see Opie throw him a wave and head for the clubhouse before shifting on his heel to face the shop, which was bustling as usual, especially for a Saturday. He tipped his chin to two of the prospects grinding through a shift in the garage - Half-Sack and Ratboy - and they dutifully waved back to him in return.
He pushed through the front door to T-M's office, his eyes dropping on the curly-haired woman sitting behind the desk, and tipped his chin to her with a smirk.
"Hey, honey. How's it hangin' today?"
Wendy glanced up at him warily from over the top of her computer screen and rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old. How'd your meeting go?"
He just lifted a shoulder as he closed the space between them, leaning over the side of the desk to give her a peck on the cheek. "Not as well as we hoped, but I think it's just gonna take some time, just like with everything else."
"Well," Wendy lifted her dark eyebrows as she tucked some caramel-colored hair behind her ear. "I know you boys will figure it out. In other news," she dropped her pen on the desk with a frustrated huff, "One of the girls was a no-show today. So there's that."
"I guess if it's not one thing, it's the other thing, huh? Who was it?"
"Dani."
It took him a second, if only because it seemed like, ever since they officially got Red Woody up and running, girls were just walking in and out of the clubhouse through a constant revolving door. So much, in fact, that it was pretty damn hard to keep track of who was who and who was doing who, too, if that was the kind of thing Jax actually had time to keep track of.
"Oh sure," Jax nodded easily. "Tig's girl."
Wendy shot him an exasperated glance and shook her head at him. "You know just as well as I do that nobody would call her his girl. She just happens to be his favorite at the moment - the sick perv that he is. I mean, that girl is just barely old enough to be his daughter, but whatever."
"And," Jax wagged a finger at her cheekily. "Sometimes he likes 'em with a little extra too."
Wendy just shook her head with yet another exasperated sigh. "I'll never understand him - he'll go for sweet little Dani one night, and then turn around and get with Luna the next. Those girls couldn't be more opposite."
"To be fair, Tig doesn't discriminate. Pussy is pussy to him, ya know?"
"Right, but…" Wendy trailed off, her forehead pinched in deep thought. "I don't think Luna had that operation yet, did she?"
Now, it was Jax's turn to sift through what he remembered about Tig's other favorite girl. "Nah, I don't think so. I don't think Tig cares much about that either though."
And they didn't either. Luna Magic, the stage name she used both on and off-screen, was one of Red Woody's most popular actresses. Anything with her in it always sold like hotcakes, whether it was a full-length movie or the short clips Juice loaded up on their website - and because of that, they definitely wanted to keep her happy too. If she liked hooking up with a sick fuck like Tig, who got off on the parts she did and didn't have, then that was her prerogative.
But Wendy was right - those two girls couldn't have been more different. Where Dani had that good girl gone bad thing going for her, all sweet and innocent with those big blue doe eyes and long blonde hair, Luna was the opposite in every way. Loud and Latina with a curly, teased 'fro out to here, sassy and down for just about anything, as clearly evidenced by her willingness to get involved with some pretty depraved shit on the Red Woody website - definitely something he'd never expect Dani to do.
Then again, that's probably exactly why Tig liked them both as much as he did. Two sides of the same coin, depending on his mood for the night.
"And, you know," Wendy went on with a light laugh. "I bet he'd be pissed if she did end up going through with that operation too."
"Probably, honey," he laughed right along with her. "Probably. So, when was Dani supposed to be here?"
"Well, she was supposed to come in an hour ago so she could close for me, but it looks like that's probably not gonna happen now. I tried calling her a few times, but she didn't pick up. I mean, this isn't really like her, pullin' something like this… I guess we're gonna have to have a talk the next time I see her. But I'll try her again in a little bit - if she doesn't answer, is it alright if I send one of the prospects over to see where she's at?"
"Sure," Jax just shrugged. "Maybe she's still sleepin' it off - I thought I saw her head back to the dorms with Tig last night anyway. Couldn't tell ya what time she left this morning though."
Wendy lifted her eyebrows knowingly with a wink. "Ah. Sure. Because you were otherwise preoccupied."
His eyes rolled up high to the tiled ceiling and just shrugged his shoulders. What was the point in even having this conversation? She was about as subtle as a flying brick here. Wendy knew exactly what he'd been up to last night - or, who he'd been up in was more like it, and he wasn't going to apologize for that.
"Anyway," Jax pushed out roughly, and all he got for that was another eye roll. "I'm gonna drop by the studio later. I figured I'd better make an appearance and sign off on anything that needs to be signed off on. Lyla and Ope are goin' through it again, so I'm gonna try to talk her into leaving early too."
"Shit," Wendy muttered her breath and then exhaled heavily. "Maybe she'll actually listen to you. I've been trying to tell her she needs to hire an assistant for months now. I don't know, Jax… I think she feels like she can't ask for it, or maybe she doesn't want anybody to think she can't handle things over at the studio - but maybe if you give her the okay, she'll actually do it."
He nodded slowly, mulling through all that piece by piece. The last thing he wanted was for Lyla to feel overworked and over-extended, not to mention like she couldn't actually ask him for help if she needed it. At the very least, they needed to have a conversation about that today, and she needed to know that whatever she needed to keep the studio running the way it was, the club was more than willing to give her.
If that meant Lyla needed to hire an assistant, then fuck it - she could hire an assistant. The studio was doing well enough, so they could afford it, especially if it helped Lyla get out the door and home to her family earlier and more often.
"That's a great idea," Jax nodded to her with a soft smile. "I'll give her a little push today. You know, Nero and Bobby are gonna be at the studio too. I guess they're crunchin' numbers and goin' over reports and all that."
Her heavily-lined eyes narrowed at him. Yeah, she knew exactly where he was going with this, but he didn't care. He was gonna barrel through anyway because two could play at her game.
"You still plannin' to drop by the house later with dinner?"
And again, Wendy's eyes just pinched together even tighter as she answered, "That's right. Unless your plans have changed?"
"Nope," he smirked at her as he propped a hip on the desk and folded his arms across his chest. "I was thinkin'... maybe I'd invite Nero over too since I'm gonna be seein' him anyway. You know, do the whole family-bonding thing? Whatdya say?"
"I think your definition of family-bonding might be different than mine."
He just cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is it though?"
"Jax…"
"Aw, come on. What's it gonna hurt? I know that you -"
Wendy held up a hand with sharp, staccato movements, effectively cutting him off mid-sentence. "I'm gonna stop you right there. I can't say I don't appreciate what you're doing here, Jax, because I guess I do. But… it's only been six months. Do you really think that -"
"Hey, that's not for you to decide, is it? Pretty sure that's Nero's call. And how is he supposed to make that call if he doesn't even know you're an option?"
She just stared back at him blankly, blinking once, and then twice, like she just couldn't believe they were really having this conversation right now. And now, he could see her waffling, weighing the pros and cons to decide if she really wanted to give him the go-ahead on this. But, he liked to think she knew him well enough to know he'd just go ahead anyway, even if she said no.
Finally, she blew out an irritated, albeit resigned sigh. No point in arguing. No point in trying to convince him that what they both knew to be true actually wasn't true. Her intentions were clear, at least to Jax, even if they weren't so much to Nero, but just like Lyla… maybe all he needed was a little push in the right direction. And obviously, Wendy needed that push just as much as Nero did.
Wendy cocked an incredulous eyebrow at him. "You sure that's not gonna be weird for you?"
"Is it weird for me if my ex-wife and my step-dad start hookin' up?" All he could do was shrug nonchalantly with an easy grin as she shook her head with some more exasperation. "I dunno… shit's been weirder around here, ya know?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "I guess you're right. And I guess I'll see you and Nero at your house tonight for dinner then."
"That's absolutely right, honey," Jax threw her a wink as he slid off the desk and headed for the office's front door. "I'll let you get back to it. See ya later."
Wendy just waved him off, probably grateful to get him out of her hair for the time being so she could actually get some work done. If Dani never actually showed up for work, she'd probably be stopping by his house with dinner later than they'd initially planned anyway. Jesus, good help was hard to find these days…
He made his way back to the clubhouse's main double doors, lifting a hand to wave at the prospects who were still toiling away in the garage before lighting up yet another cigarette. At this point, he might as well have one of them run out for more smokes while they were at it too - at the rate he was going today, he'd need at least two more packs just to keep his nerves in check.
That meeting with Pope had rattled him more than he was willing to admit. Definitely more than he was willing to show.
From where he was standing, there just didn't seem to be a solution that ended with Samcro losing out. Even if they could talk Pope down into a lesser stake, that was still inviting someone into their business with too much power and too much motivation to spearhead what they were trying to do. Nobody in the club would ever agree to sign away part of their business interests to Pope, even if it was something as miniscule as just a small percentage. That would be giving in. That would be letting Pope decide their fate and call the shots.
Which was ironic, sure - given that just happened to be the exact same reason Pope wasn't budging either.
So that left them in yet another Mexican standoff with no end in sight.
Jax chuckled bitterly at that particular irony as he tipped his chin to Phil, the prospect behind the bar, and paused, his curiosity peaked when he caught sight of Juice and Tig sitting at the counter.
"I'm tellin' ya, that's the one!" Tig barked out. "It's gotta be."
"Nah, bro. That's just… sick and wrong. Sick and wrong."
Juice adjusted his laptop screen for good measure as he reached for his beer bottle, as if that would prove to Tig that he was serious and that he was right, too.
And then Jax just couldn't help himself, and called out: "What's sick and wrong?"
Juice shot him a wary glance from over the top of his computer screen, not unlike Wendy just a few minutes ago. "You don't wanna know, bro. You don't wanna know."
"Aw, come on," Jax shot back as he leaned an elbow on the bartop and nodding to Phil, who pushed a beer bottle toward him. "Now you gotta tell me."
Tig didn't waste the opportunity to jump in full throttle, eyes glazed over and dilated like a wildman. "Picture it - a threesome of epic proportions. Two lesbians, one brother. And by brother…" he waggled his eyebrows like fucking Jim Carrey, "you know, one of the lesbian's brother."
Jax's cigarette dangled from his mouth as he blinked in shock, and then his nose crinkled up at the sick bastard sitting a few feet away from him. "That's… shit, bro, that is sick and wrong."
And that was exactly why they'd never let Tig actually write any scripts on his own anymore. According to Lyla, the first and only one they'd ever let him drop on her desk still gave her nightmares, and Jax was right there with her. After that, Tig had been relegated to a producer in name only - and was kept far away from filming if they could help it.
The guy just couldn't be trusted to keep his hands to himself or his dick in his pants.
"No, no," Tig just batted a hand in the air. "Just hear me out, okay? One of them ties the other two up - like we're talkin', a handcuff situation, right? Bondage and all that shit. And then -"
"You know what I don't get?" Juice chimed in helpfully. "Are they both bangin' the brother or just one of them? 'Cuz, even if just one of them is, doesn't that make her bisexual? And not a lesbian? I mean, we gotta be careful about these things now, you know. Make sure everything's labelled right on the website so we don't get in trouble."
"So…" Tig took a moment to give that the consideration it deserved. "Like a bisexual who's into incest and bondage play?"
"Well, sure," Jax cocked an eyebrow at them. "But that's if Lyla would actually let that script go through and you know she never would. That idea should never see the light of day again, brothers. Never."
Juice nodded emphatically while Tig just threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.
"Fuckin' prudes," Tig grumbled under his breath and took a long pull from his beer. "Y'all are no fun."
"See, the idea I'm workin' on is actually one I think Lyla's gonna be all for," Juice was practically bouncing in his barstool like a little kid on Christmas morning, if that little kid sported mean tattoos on his head and a Reaper leather kutte on his back. "And I got the perfect title - One-Headed Snakes on a Plane. Get it? You know, like, 'cuz of cocks?"
Jax's lips curled back into an amused grin. "Yeah, I get it, bro. But I don't know. I think you might need to let that one cook for a bit before you bring it to Lyla."
"Alright. Alright. What about this one - Dong of the Dead. Zombies are roaming the earth and guess what they're hungry for?" Juice didn't pause long enough to give either of them a chance to answer. "Sex. They're hungry for sex!"
Now, his shoulders shook with laughter as he grabbed his beer bottle off the counter and sidestepped around the bar to clap Juice on the shoulder. "I say go with it and see where it takes you, bro."
"Yeah," Juice nodded to himself, even as Tig grumbled into his beer. "I really feel like I've found my calling, you know?"
Jax just shook his head, chuckling with every step through the clubhouse's main floor to trek over to the hallway. He still had some time before he'd planned to head over to the studio - he didn't want to interrupt whatever discussions Lyla, Nero, and Bobby were having, when all they really needed him for was a signature anyway - and all he wanted right now was just a moment or two to decompress. Sit in his bed in his dorm with a beer and a smoke and drown out the noise for a little while.
He sucked in a sharp breath when his feet breached the edge of the hallway, and JT's gleaming teal bike came into view, propped up and on display in all its glory. His head tilted to the side, and in this first quiet moment he'd gotten today, his eyes stung and burned on impact. Jax swallowed hard as he patted the handlebars and then brought his hand to his lips before reaching out one more time to touch the top of the black and gold urn sitting right next to his dad's bike.
And this his eyes dropped to the picture frame sitting on the other side of the urn - a simple wedding photo of his parents at their happiest, all flushed with the newness of marriage and the excitement for their future. JT with one hand wrapped around his young bride's shoulders and the other resting on her swollen stomach, and Gemma, bursting with pride and high on life and love in her lacey white dress.
Forever joined. Forever seared in his memory.
It'd been nearly six months to the day since he'd lost her, since she'd just keeled over in T-M's parking lot without a moment's warning. All he'd been able to do was hold her in his arms on the hot pavement as he watched the life drain out of her. There hadn't even been time to beg her to stay, or to say goodbye, or to even call for help. She was just gone. Here one moment, and then gone the next.
He was just grateful she hadn't suffered. A quick and painless death was the most any of them could ask for, and she'd gotten it that day on T-M's lot.
But Jax shook that off as he put his key in the lock and let himself into his dorm. Judging by the damage to this room from last night, he probably needed to get a prospect in here sooner rather than later. That shit wouldn't clean itself. Still, he kicked some of the clothes he'd discarded in a drunken haze last night, threw a neon purple G-string in the pile too, and decided he just didn't need to touch any of that any further.
Just as he kicked off his Nike sneakers and settled back with his beer onto his messy bed with its sweat-stained sheets, his prepay buzzed on his nightstand. Jax pushed out a heavy sigh - he'd finally gotten a moment of reprieve, but it didn't look like anyone in his life was really going to let him have it.
He flipped open his prepay, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling when he saw the text message waiting for him:
Got some new costumes today. Wanna see 'em?
Aw, what the hell, Jax shrugged as he ran a tired hand over his face. Might as well.
Sure, he texted back. Let's see what you got.
She didn't hesitate, like she'd just been sitting there with these pics all set to go. And knowing Ima, she definitely was. It took about five seconds for his phone to buzz with three new pictures - one of Ima in a nurse's get-up, tits hanging out, G-string on full display, a second one of Ima in a soldier's get-up, tits hanging out, G-string on full display, and a third one of Ima in some kinda spacesuit get-up, tits hanging out, G-string on full display.
So, basically, pretty much what he'd expected.
Hot, but kinda boring.
A little too easy for his liking too, but it was what it was. All the girls in the clubhouse were a little too easy for his liking - and now there was plenty of overlap between who was in the studio and who was in the clubhouse. Was it so hard to just… make him work for it every once and a while? Even if it was just some kinda sexy role play? On second thought, that actually did sound like fun. Maybe he'd have to bring that up to her the next time he saw her - which, inevitably, was always on his terms and on his timeline, just the way he liked it.
That was actually kinda boring too, if he was really being honest.
But whatever. Ima was nothin' but a good time, and he still had some good fun with her too. And she'd also taken the time to figure out what he liked, what he didn't, and what might make him come back for more.
I like your tits, he texted back, if only because he felt like those pictures deserved some kind of acknowledgement for what they were. You gonna wear one of those for me tonite?
And a second later, his phone buzzed with her response: Oh, you know it, baby.
Then another second later: What time do you want me to drop by the clubhouse tonite?
He mulled that over, trying to figure out how long he'd be at his house tonight, running interference between his ex-wife and his stepdad. Granted, the parties in the clubhouse could start as early as right now, but that didn't mean he needed to be around for every single second of them, every single time.
I'll hit you up later.
K, she texted back almost immediately. Can't wait. I think I wanna ride you all night.
She followed that up with a series of emojis he really didn't understand. Well, he got the eggplant and the water splash ones. Those just made sense - the strawberry and the lightning bolt and the rhino did not, but he didn't care enough to ask.
And so, he just shrugged as he pounded out his own reply: Won't argue with that.
He had zero problems with just laying back and letting her do all the work. Ima fired something back just as quickly, but his head shot up at the knock on his door.
"Whatdya want?"
The door opened just enough for Ratboy to stick his head through. "Hey, boss. Sorry to disturb you, but Wendy sent me in. Chief Unser's outside and he says he needs to talk to ya."
Well, if it wasn't one thing, it was the other fucking thing. Looked like that half-second of reprieve he'd gotten was up. With one more swig from his beer bottle, he set it back down on his nightstand and begrudgingly put his shoes back on. He could feel his irritation just spike exponentially with every movement, from tying his laces to heading back out to the clubhouse's main floor. Juice and Tig were still at it by the bar, with Tig howling with laughter about something and Juice squinting down at his computer screen, all serious and earnest about his next masterpiece porn script.
Jax chuckled to himself again as he passed them, with Ratboy trailing right behind him when he pushed through the double-doors, momentarily blinded by the scorching sunlight blasting through the parking lot. From his vantage point, he found Unser's patrol car parked just beyond T-M's office. The old man was standing out on the pavement, sweating through his uniform underneath the hot sun, and Wendy hovered off to the right, shifting anxiously from side to side as they waited for Jax to join them.
"'Sup, Unser," Jax tipped his chin to the chief of police once he'd closed the space between them. "What can I help you with today?"
The chief ran a hand over what little hair he had left on his head, and blew out a disturbed sigh before finally dragging his gaze up from the pavement to hit Jax square in the eye. Jax found himself frowning back, now on high alert that something was very, very wrong here.
"You guys know Danielle Walker, right? She works here in the office at T-M?"
By now, Opie materialized next to him, having picked up on the fact that whatever Unser had shown up for today - it wasn't good. Jax and Wendy exchanged a glance, and he felt his heart slide right into his stomach at the worried expression on her face.
"Yeah," Jax started slowly. "We know Dani. She's been workin' at T-M for…" now he looked to Wendy for some clarification here.
"A little less than a year," Wendy nodded tightly, still shifting anxiously from side to side. "Gemma hired her. You know, she was supposed to come in for a shift a little over an hour ago. I tried calling a few times, but she hasn't been answering."
Unser's head dipped down into a sharp nod and he ran an exhausted hand over his world-weary face before they heard his voice again: "She was found dead in her apartment this morning."
Everything seemed to still around them, even as Wendy's hand flew up to cover her mouth.
"Maintenance worker came across the body - she'd been strangled, some signs of forced entry, but the crime scene was a little messy, if you ask me. Anyway," Unser held up a hand with a heavy sigh. "I was hopin' you guys had some contact info for her somewhere. Or maybe at least know where we could find her people - you know, someone we could call to let them know."
"Sure," Wendy nodded immediately, although her voice was shaky and uneven. "I'm pretty sure she listed her mom as her emergency contact. She told me once her parents lived in Lodi, I think."
"You mind gettin' that number for me?" Unser pushed out, tired and heavy, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders right now. And maybe he kinda did.
Wendy glanced at Jax, and he just gestured with his head toward T-M's office, signaling that that was what she needed to do right now. Besides, he had a feeling Unser had some things he wanted to say, and he didn't necessarily want to say them in front of Wendy either. And once Wendy was safely out of earshot, the chief didn't waste any time.
"Look," he started, his grey eyes shifting from Jax to Opie, and back to Jax again, "I just talked to the ME - got the preliminary autopsy back. Toxicology will take longer to get, but I've got enough right now to give me a place to start."
Jax shifted uncomfortably on the pavement as he dipped inside his kutte for his smokes. He had a feeling he was going to need them. "Alright. So what're you tellin' us for?"
The chief levelled a pointed stare right at him. "The ME figures the time of death was somewhere between three and five in the morning. The ME also found DNA inside her. You know what I mean?"
"Sure," he shot back, although he couldn't really bat down the wave of uneasiness that flickered through him, cigarette or no cigarette. "I know what you mean."
Unser didn't miss a beat. "We got a hit on the match. Someone in the system already - I'll give you one guess which Son it was."
Jesus fucking Christ.
Well, this was the last goddamn thing they needed. Especially when they were so close to really going legit they could taste it. One of their own getting pegged for murder charges would not help their cause.
And then he shook those thoughts from his head as fast as they came. A girl was dead. Fucking strangled in her apartment. A girl they'd known. A girl who'd worked for them.
And if Tig was responsible then… then they'd handle it the only way they knew how.
"You know," Unser pushed on in that rough, gravelly voice. "There's been two other girls gone missin' in the last month or so. As far as I know, they've been in and out of your clubhouse a few times too."
Now, Jax was on high alert, his gaze slicing to his VP with his eyebrows lifted into his forehead. "What do you mean, two other girls are missing? The fuck you talkin' about?"
Unser just nodded right through it. "Lucy Clark and Delilah Rivera. You hear those names around the clubhouse?"
Shit. Those names didn't ring a bell at all. And when he dared a glance at Ope, he could see the same bewilderment written on his face too. What the fuck was happening in this town?
There were just too many new faces everywhere to keep track of them all - in the clubhouse, in the shop, in the studio, in the town. And from the looks of it, a few of them had slipped right through the cracks too. Even if they had worked at the studio, Lyla was probably too busy and too distracted by running the creative side of their business to do much more than just write them off as no-shows, just like Wendy had done with Dani today.
"I can check with Nero to see if they were Diosa girls or somethin'. I don't recognize the names, but that doesn't mean they're not doin' makeup or somethin' like that at the studio too - although, I'm pretty sure Nero would've said something if two of his old Diosa girls were missing."
"Yeah," Ope chimed in, a tight line etched across his forehead. "I think so too. I doubt they were Nero's girls, but like Jax said - I guess that doesn't mean they weren't workin' at the studio doin' some kinda odd job or just hangin' out at the clubhouse in general."
"Okay," Jax huffed with some frustration. "So why are we just hearing about these girls now?"
Unser just shrugged, like he didn't really know any more than they did either. "We looked into it when the names came through as MIA. At the time, it just looked like they'd skipped town. And now… now I'm not so sure."
Jax eyed him carefully, knowing he had to be just as intentional with his words as Unser had to be. None of this was Unser's fault. But none of it was his fault either though.
"Look, you know I'll do everything I can to keep you in the loop," Unser held up a hand with a tight nod. "But all I'm gonna say is - you'd better make sure Tig's got his story straight. I can buy him… maybe a few hours, five or six tops. But that's it. I'm gonna have to bring him in for questioning and there's just no way around that - not with his DNA all up inside that poor girl."
"Shit," Jax exhaled heavily as he scrubbed a hand over his eyes again. "Shit."
"Yeah," Unser nodded pointedly. "I think you boys have got a problem on your hands."
Jax shot Ope an exhausted glance, and they nodded to each other.
Yeah.
Looked like they really did.
Ten Minutes Later
Tig unearthed his face from his hands, distraught and shaking with disbelief. With Happy pressing down on his left shoulder to keep him in place, Juice at his right, Opie hovering off to the side, and Jax crouched right in front of him, he had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run from this. And even though Jax hated every single second of it, there was no other choice.
"Dani?" Tig whispered desperately. "Dani? How can that be - I just fucking saw her last night. I don't understand… I don't..."
"Hey," Jax murmured. "I'm just telling you what we heard from Unser."
That just made Tig squeeze his eyes shut as he sucked in a sharp shot of air. "I don't… goddammit, I don't understand."
"And you know what else that means, right?" Jax pushed on gently. "You know what they found in her autopsy? Why Unser even showed up here in the first place?"
It took Tig a second, but the moment the realization slammed through him, all the light died out behind his black eyes, if it had ever been there in the first place.
"Oh my fucking God," Tig exhaled. If the man had ever prayed in his life, now was probably the time. His face fell into his hands again, muffling what he said next, "Oh fuck. Jesus fucking Christ."
Jax swallowed hard, glancing only once at his VP before he whispered, "Tig… did you do this?"
His club brother's head jerked up from his hands, his dark eyes wild and searching for the answers that they both knew he might not ever find.
"Did you kill Dani?" Jax went on, his voice barely above a murmur. "Those other two girls? Is this you?"
His club brother let out one desperate sob before his shoulders shook, and he leaned into Happy and Juice behind him, who caught him when he fell.
"I don't know, I don't know," he rumbled through his hands. "I don't fucking know. I loved that girl - I fucking did."
"We know you did," Jax swallowed hard, his eyes locked right on Tig. "We know, brother."
Or, they knew he'd loved her at least as much as someone like Tig could really love another person who didn't wear a Reaper kutte and who wasn't one of his daughters. But still… Dani had just been a toy to Tig. Someone he could have fun with. Someone he could play with when the mood struck. He'd never had any intention of actually making her his old lady and they all knew it.
"I never would've hurt her on purpose. Never in a million fucking years - at least not unless she asked me to, but you know what I mean," he pushed through it as more unshed tears pooled in his eyes because the terror was right there, bubbling up to the surface. "I don't think I… but fuck, I don't know. Oh my God, I don't know."
And goddammit, that's what Jax had been afraid of. The possibility was as real as the tears on Tig's face.
"What do you remember from last night? Any idea when she left your room? If you took her home?" Opie asked in a hushed voice on the other side of him.
All Tig could do was shrug aimlessly with despair and cling to Happy behind him. "I don't know… I couldn't even tell you what time we went back to my dorm. I know we did and then we… well, you know."
"Yeah," Jax sighed heavily and tugged a hand through his hair. "We know."
"And after that…" Tig just lifted his hands helplessly. "I don't remember jackshit. I wish I did. Oh my God, I wish I fucking did. Shit - I must've just been blacked out of my mind if I didn't even remember to wear a rubber. The fuck was I thinking?"
Yeah, that would've been helpful to remember something as important as that, especially when they had to take into account the current consequences. He couldn't think of many scenarios where it was really okay not to remember to wear a condom, but saying that out loud definitely wasn't going to help right now.
Jax's eyes drifted out to the club brothers wrapping their arms around their heartbroken and grief-stricken brother. As soon as he saw a round of nods from all three of them, there was nothing left to do, other than the one thing they all knew they had to do.
Tig had said so himself. He could've done this. He could've strangled Dani in her apartment last night, or even this morning. He could've been responsible for those two other missing girls - and if he was, odds were they were dead too.
"Alright," Jax nodded to him. "We got you, Tig. You know that, right?"
Tig's chin dipped up down in desperate, horror-tinged movements. Which felt about right, considering a girl was dead, and it was likely there were two more bodies out there somewhere, just waiting for someone to stumble across. Then, Jax reached forward and clapped his hand around Tig's neck to bring their faces in closer.
"We got you, brother. We got you."
End Credits: "Dani California" by Red Hot Chili Peppers
A/N - I don't know about you, but I'm really sick of the slut-shaming of crow eaters and just the way women are treated in general in the SOA world. One of my goals with this story was to give the crow eaters names and personalities and hopes and dreams and backstories so they're not just background characters that are there to cause trouble and incite jealousy for the main OC. Let's put their misogyny and their patriarchal hierarchy on notice.
Jax, in particular, is doing some problematic things here, and he definitely seems to treat different "categories" of women differently. On the one hand, he's good friends with his ex (which has been so much fun to write), accepts Luna as a woman without any hesitation or question, and knows they need to be "PC" in terms of how clips are labeled on Red Woody's website. But then on the other, he's sexting one of his employees (and pretty badly too, but he obviously has zero interest in trying with Ima), and then there's his reaction to Dani's death and his knee-jerk reaction in how it's handled. That's going to come back to haunt him, and he deserves it, doesn't he?
The next chapter will introduce the central OC, Grace Walker, who also happens to be Dani's older sister 😉
If you've read any of my stories before, you know I tend to ignore canon and just do my own thing, and I'm going to continue that trend with this story. Per usual, Tara just doesn't exist in this story, so there will be no mention of her (and she obviously won't be popping up anywhere either). The next chapter will explain a bit of where certain characters, like Clay, are at as well as the status of things like Diosa and Red Woody and how Nero fits into all that too.
Look for chapter two next Sunday! In the meantime, I'm going to be posting teasers, character graphics, and inspiration as I go along on my Tumblr page (my handle is at lovebarefootblonde).
Thank you to my friend Abbi for all our crazy, long-winded, and hilarious chats about this story. It would not be what it is without your ideas and your encouragement! Thank you as always for reading - I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one. Of course I know who the killer is (lol), but I'd love to hear your theories!